


Since You Don't Want To Talk

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad Mood, F/M, Living Together, Romance, Workplace Relationship, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Smutty fluttery without particularly redeeming value! Just a quickie, a little Sunday afternoon delight. Lisbon is in a bad mood at work and at home. Jane tries to intervene with his partner, divert her attention and resolve the anger. Fun idea, basically devolving into porn. So, be warned. Strong content. If you don't like that type of material, do not read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.Posted on FFnet on June 30, 2013. Posted here with minor edits to improve the read.





	

The worst day in the world! Everything that could, had gone wrong. Everyone that could, had pissed her off. The only calm in this whole storm of a day was Patrick Jane, of all people, who sat drinking his tea and followed her agitated stew with his eyes over a cup and saucer. It definitely was unfair how that irritated her the most!  


"Are you going to sit there and drink tea the entire afternoon?" Teresa Lisbon was barking directions and chastising any of the team who misspoke or misstepped or simply didn't respond fast enough. These were minor transgressions. The team did not often make major ones.  


Patrick Jane did not reply the first three times she issued this challenge to him. The fourth time, he set down his cuppa, got up to stand in front of her and said calmly, "Come with me."  


"What? Don't issue orders to me!" She wasn't loud, but her facial expression showed unreasonable anger.  


Jane appeared to demur, breaking eye contact. His hands were resting easily in his pockets. With a mild crook of his head, he reiterated, "I just think it would be better if you came with me." He bounced on his heels and leaned in to say quietly, "Right now."  


"No. Just do something useful!"  


"I'm going into your office, Lisbon, and I hope you'll meet me there in a few minutes."  


"Fat chance."  


Jane simply said, "Uh-huh," and walked away. When Lisbon entered her office a few minutes later, he was ensconced on her couch.  


"All right. I'm here. Why can't you sit on a couch, like a normal person? Why do you have to sprawl? Sit up if you want to talk to me."  


Jane didn't move a muscle. "I thought you wanted to talk to me."  


"Cut the crap, Jane. I didn't call you in here. You called me. Into my own office. That's cheeky, even for you."  


"I'm just trying to help. What's making you so angry, Teresa?"  


"You're not my therapist. And don't try any of your games or hoodoo on me either."  


"Wouldn't dream of it." Jane got up. "Okay. You don't want to talk. You just want to chew. I get it. I'll see you at the house later." He closed the door as he left her office. Maybe she would stay in there awhile and try to calm down.  


A few seconds later, Lisbon came out at steam and passed him, saying, "Jackass."  


It was going to be a difficult evening. Jane, or anyone for that matter, rarely saw Lisbon in such an unreasonable frame of mind. But it did happen on occasion. It affected everyone all the more for its rarity.  


Ah, the many moods of Teresa Lisbon! He actually loved every single one. Since they had been living together, they had learned so many wonderful things about each other, many of them trivial to be sure. But all the more delightful for that. It was as if the tapestry of their two lives was now being woven together as one. He planned to suggest marriage soon. Patrick Jane was traditional that way.  


Bad moods didn't usually last long at their house. They were too attracted to one another to let a mood or issue get in the way. Sometimes it was acted out in their lovemaking. It added spice and variety, made the unhappy party a puzzle to solve, but even better, to soothe and understand. So many things were happily mended without arguments at their house.  


Patrick was already at the house when Teresa arrived from work, toting a few odds and ends for dinner that she'd picked up on the way home. She didn't feel much like fooling with dinner, but she was hungry. Patrick handed her a glass of red wine and stayed out of her way. She was grateful for that.  


Teresa couldn't shake her agitation. It had galled her when, for the umpteenth time, Bertram had dressed her down for the constant flow of complaints he was receiving about her team. Granted, they almost all due to Patrick Jane's behavior, but that was certainly nothing new. She actually totally understood how Bertram felt. Jane's value on cases made any number of complaints worth fielding, but it did sometimes wear you down with its sheer relentlessness. Suddenly all the usually unnoticed foibles came to the fore with neon lights, demanding to be highlighted for correction! She wasn't sorry for it. They were used to relying on Jane's insights and manipulations that so often uncovered the truth of a case. But it could make them lazy, too. The team needed to stay sharp, stay on its toes. Too sloppy, and it made them all look bad, as well as make mistakes. And if she barked on occasion, it reminded them who was boss and that she was watching. It had to be done.  


"You're glaring at me, Teresa."  


"I'm tired of getting in trouble for your antics."  


"Me? Oh. Only me?"  


"No. But mostly you."  


"I don't think so."  


"So, you're a psychic after all?"  


"Maybe we should talk about it . . ."  


"We've talked about it too many times. It doesn't change anything. You'll do the same thing the next day . . . maybe that afternoon!"  


"If I worked differently . . . I wouldn't get the same results."  


"It's the complaints, Patrick. Dealing with them is so unpleasant. If you could just do what you do . . . and be . . . nicer. It would help a lot. Why do your methods require you to be such a . . . an unpleasant . . . prick . . . to people?"  


"People lie. Waste my time. I have to rattle the truth out of them. That's why we get to the truth and solve cases. Catch the bad guys. That's a good thing." Jane started to pick up the dishes from the table. "I'll get this. Why don't you get your shower and meet me in bed?"  


"You can't kiss it and make it better, Patrick."  


He bet he could. "I've got something else in mind. Nothing big, but a little special."  


Sighing, Teresa got up. Solving cases was definitely worth the trouble Jane caused. It was just so overwhelming sometimes. "I could use a nice, hot shower," she said a little begrudgingly and scraped her chair into place. Jane's mysterious 'cure' intrigued her, and they always made her feel better. Besides, her anger had wound her body up several notches, and Patrick was never boring in bed! At least there would be something that felt good today. All-day anger left an oily grime on her body. She grabbed her wineglass, plucked a last tidbit from her plate before he could whisk it away and headed for a shower.  


Floods of hot water left her clean and fresh, but it really had not altered her irritation. Checking her temperature on it just now was actually re-triggering it, frustrated thoughts flooding her mind. And here was Patrick, sitting naked and hard on fresh sheets. She could use a good hard fuck. She wondered if he'd ever tried rough, and how rough. He opened his arms to her and she settled in them while he kissed her and played at her breasts.  


Teresa roused quickly. Her clit felt like an alarm bell, demanding that she put her hand on it and turn it off. She wiggled her fingers in. Patrick pushed them away. Assuming he wanted to handle her himself, she allowed it, but he didn't put his hand on her. Wiggling her hips and making an insistent noise, she put her fingers back. He batted them away.  


She whined now. "Patrick, what are you doing? You're making me horny!"  


"Patience." He hadn't wound her up enough yet.  


Teresa put a hand on his fat cock. He held her arm and removed her hand. The expression on his face was as gentle and calm as ever.  


Rolling over, she straddled his legs and raised her hips to mount him. He caught her at the waist and set her back. Her face set in an angry pout, her chest heaving with emotion, frustration and desire, Teresa stared at Patrick silently as a tear slid down her cheek.  


Patrick saw the tear fall and his first impulse was to bring her close to cuddle the sadness away. Wrong release for right now. It was the anger that he wanted to soothe just now. "I want you from behind, Teresa." He lifted her under the arms and set her on hands and knees to get ready for him before she had time to consider. It was a demand and it didn't strike her well tonight. Before she could think more, Patrick had his chest against her back, pushing her hair aside and kissing her neck. She could feel him, stiff, poking and brushing her legs as Patrick moved behind her.  


Behind? Patrick usually liked to watch her face as they made love, but they'd had lots of fun with doggie-style, too. She was so frustrated, anything sounded good to her. "Ah. My pony has come to visit!" She turned to smile at him, but only briefly when she saw the serious look on his face. Now she was pissed off again. Couldn't he cooperate with anything? By this time Patrick was raining kisses on her hips. Her desire for completion twined with her anger at him like strong rope.  


'God, she's beautiful,' Patrick thought, as he massaged each cheek, moving mounds as full as his hands could grasp. He saw clearly the pink and mauve pucker of clean flesh that was his ultimate object for tonight. There was nothing like this type of play to release anger. They hadn't tried much of it, certainly not focused on it in any way, so he wasn't sure how Teresa would react. If she reacted well, it might open a whole new aspect to explore more fully at a later time. But tonight was for release.  


Her vulva was flashing pink at him as she moved her hips and especially when she would lower her shoulders. He slipped two fingers in and curved them to rub a bundle of nerves he knew could bring her to orgasm quickly, but that wasn't his goal right now. He just wanted to wind her up fast.  


"Oh! Don't stop, Patrick. That felt good!" She pushed her hips towards him, wanting more. But, removing his fingers, he used thumb and forefinger to handle her clitoris, sliding it back and forth between them in her slippery moisture, kneading, then tweaking the hard little nub.  


"Ah, that's so good!" Patrick stopped abruptly. "Errrrmph! Why are you teasing me? It's making me mad!"  


Teresa stopped moving. "What are you doing back there?" Patrick was kissing the inside surface of her fanny cheeks, spreading her open to reach deep. He started high and kissed down to her sex, tonguing there and then moving up to the other cheek. He hadn't done this before. What was he planning? Well, if he thought he was going to fuck her there, they needed to have a talk first. She turned to see his face and said, "Patrick, this—"  


"Is not what you're thinking." He finished for her. "Let me do this my way, please. It will be good for you. I promise."  


"Promise? How can you promise? I don't know what you're going to d— Oh! God, that does feel nice, Patrick."  


He had filled two fingers with her own lubrication and was sliding them back and forth against her pink pucker right now. With his concurrent attention to her clit with the other hand, Teresa could sense the orgasm waiting for her. Patrick stopped again.  


"Gah! Damn! Are you going to tease me all night long? This is too mu—"  


Both of her openings were suddenly filled with digits! Teresa wasn't sure which ones were where, but the onslaught of sensation silenced her except for a few wild grunts. Patrick lavished the most attention on her back entrance, keeping it slippery and accustoming it to being finger-fucked and liking it. Her pelvis was a boiling cauldron of simmering anger and delicious desire at the same time, the mix bubbling to a massive explosion, deep in her core and overpowering. She wanted to bite Patrick and cherish him at the same time, but the war became moot in a moment.  


The last she remembered, Patrick held her in a kind of long, nice pinch on the shared interior flesh of both openings, his thumb vaginally and two fingers in the back, none of them fully in because of the need to stretch his hand between them. He rubbed in and out, gently squeezing tender, sensitive flesh in a soft pinch, the fingers of his other hand busy with her clit.  


He watched her succumb to his attentions, holding her hips steady with his free hand, when its graceful fingers weren't busy with her clitoris, so that he could apply the pressure he needed. When she came, she rose to her knees, her voice a high-pitched, throaty scream, nearly of anguish, followed by rhythmic breathy growls as all the tension escaped. Breathless, she returned gasping to her hands and knees and Patrick mounted her swiftly, grabbing her hips and pinning her to him as he rolled and swept the tight walls of her feminine flesh. He controlled everything about the act, curving his back to push himself inside to the balls and moving her hips up and down against his pelvis. Finally, he came with a shout as he continued to pump, sending her keening into a final pulsing round of ecstasy. They collapsed together on their sides, still connected.  


When Teresa stirred, Patrick sat up and folded his legs. Teresa rolled to her back, draping her legs comfortably across Patrick's lap. He smiled at her and petted what was in reach. "How are you feeling, Teresa?"  


"You mean after that banshee screech? Oh, fine. "She stuck her tongue out at him and he winked at her. "I like what you did to my butt."  


"Mmmmmm. Me, too. We'll have to have some more adventures back there."  


Her eyes flashed and then narrowed, lascivious and questioning. "What about your 'back there'?" Was he soft inside? Hard and muscular? Her fingertips recalled the soft pucker, the little ridges they had circled, and his reactions, his pleasure.  


"I'd love your fingers anywhere you want to put them. Now, don't get me thinking about it or I'll be your randy little pony again and we won't get any rest for tomorrow."  


"I like my randy little pony, Patrick."  


"I'll be grumpy if I don't get my sleep. And then I'll be rude to someone before you know it. And you'll already be grumpy from no sleep and we'll all be miserable until I get you in bed tomorrow night."  


Frowning, she moved her legs from his lap. "That's too complicated."  


"Yes it is. Now, I'm going to get my shower, and I'll meet you here for our little trip to dreamland."  


"Deal."


End file.
